The New Avengers
by hockeygoalie1992
Summary: There is one force that not even the Avengers, the Fantastic Four, the X-Men, or the Sorcerer Supreme could escape: Time. When the world's greatest heroes have grown too old to stand and fight for us, who will take up their mantle? Who will rise up to defend us from the evils of our world and countless others?


**Disclaimer:**** I do not own the **_**Harry Potter**_** series or Marvel Comics; nor do I claim rights or ownership of any of their characters or likeness.**

**This story came about after one of my betas and I sat down and had a long Skype call discussing the future of "Harry Potter and the Power Pack". I went back and read through the story and found myself disappointed in it. It was my first creative writing work in which I wasn't confined to rigid guidelines as I often was in Elementary and Middle School, so, with that in mind, I am proud to say that it was a decent first attempt. However, I looked back and realized that I made many, many mistakes. Most prevalent of them all is the fact that I didn't make it believable; I didn't plan out how Harry would be involved with the Magical World.**

**This story will be different. Harry and Franklin will be two separate individuals, each with their own powers. I do sincerely hope you enjoy this second attempt at a Harry Potter and Marvel comics crossover. I will do my best to meet and exceed your expectations.**

**Enjoy.**

**Chapter 1: A Gathering of Old Friends**

The young man of average height and build surveyed the building before him, the famed Sanctum Sanctorum of Greenwich Village, New York. To the everyday passerby, this was the home of Doctor Steven Strange, the occult expert.

To those in the know, this was the home of Doctor Stephen Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme, and his lesser-known apprentice, Harry Potter. Franklin Richards ran a hand through his blond hair, brushing a few locks out of his eyes, and smiled at the sound of a car engine somewhere behind him. He turned around and happily noted that his afternoon entertainment - oh, sorry, - his _sister_, Valeria, had arrived.

On second thought, entertainment was probably the right word. Judging by the fact that she was dressed in a rather expensive looking business suit and just glanced up at the mirror to check her hair for the _third_ time since parking, he would have a _lot_ of material to work with after their business here was concluded. And to think he nearly cancelled to go see a movie.

Franklin waited patiently for his sister to climb out of the classic Rolls Royce Phantom, a gift from her rather wealthy boss, the one and only Tony Stark. He had to admit, having a sixteen year old little sister working as the Head of Technological Development for Stark Enterprises was pretty damn impressive, and that was coming from a young man who could literally change the way the Earth spun on its axis.

Of course, sometimes he had to wonder whether or not Tony hired Val for the sole purpose of having something to tease his dad, Reed Richards, about. He'd lost count of the number of times Tony called the Baxter Building absolutely _raving_ about some contraption his baby sister had made from scratch; how she made him feel _so proud_ to have had the opportunity to take her under his wing and bring her into the company!

Franklin could practically _hear_ his dad grinding his teeth as Tony's smug laughter sounded from the other end of the line. Tony and Reed were great friends, but both were _very_ competitive when it came to their inventions. Make no mistake, Reed was proud that his little girl was doing well, but he would've definitely preferred that she be a part of his research team.

Of course, Reed would never say that to Valeria though! Oh no! He made sure to praise her for her accomplishments every chance he had. Well, he would right after he took a few deep breaths and stopped cursing Tony Stark to high heaven.

"_Boys and their competitive nature,"_ As his mom would say, something that Franklin would admit with no resistance. Even he, a mutant with near god-like power, gave into his competitive urges every once in a while. Especially when his old friend, Harry, was involved.

Harry, just Harry, as he insisted. He hated when people used his last name, his birth name. Anyone who knew the young Englishman could see the subtle ticks; the forced smile, twitching of his eyebrow whenever someone used that most loathed surname. Of course, the not-so-subtle sign of magic sparks jumping from his fingertips whenever he was annoyed were another major hint that the offender should lower his gaze and back away quickly.

Come to think of it, how long had it been since Franklin had the chance to hang out with Harry? Definitely too long for Franklin's liking; if he remembered correctly, the last time they were able to hang out was when the two of them teleported over to an English pub to watch a Manchester United versus Chelsea match. Now, _that_ was a damn good night!

Unfortunately, his schedule had become more hectic with his parents' decision to retire from active duty. A well deserved retirement, in Franklin's opinion; years of battling intergalactic empires and other would be invaders had taken their toll on each member of the Fantastic Four.

Uncle Johnny was off filming for his reality TV series, the title Franklin couldn't remember for the life of him, no longer blazing a trail of flames through the sky as the Human Torch. His parents still worked in their lab in the Baxter Building, always trying to make advancements in their wormhole technology, but Reed and Susan Richards had long since retired from their journeys to the far reaches of space. Though Reed would never admit it, he only stopped at Susan's insistence; after years of debate, the Invisible Woman had finally broken through Mister Fantastic's thick skull and convinced him to settle down and live a (somewhat) normal life.

Oh, everyone knew that Reed would never abandon his precious lab, which was never Sue's intention to begin with, but, as Uncle Ben said, everyone who knew him went outside to see if the sky was falling the day he finally gave into his wife's wishes.

As for Uncle Ben, well, he was the exception. He hadn't yet fully retired, his rock-like state granted him a rather unique augmentation: he was nearly immortal. This prolonged lifespan, perhaps it would be more appropriate to call it bodily stasis, was the latest object of Reed's scientific obsession. Why didn't Ben age when he was in that rock hard state? Was it true immortality? Was it just a slower aging process? There had to be _some_ sort of rational scientific explanation and Reed Richards would be the one to find it.

Of course, Reed just had to announce this new experiment at their monthly get together with a few of the Avengers, Pepper and Tony Stark (the billionaire playboy finally gave in and married his lovely assistant), Doctor Strange and Harry. He unknowingly gave the young sorcerer the perfect opportunity to take the wind right out of his sails.

"_Oh, let's just skip the long, boring scientific jargon and say a wizard did it,"_ Harry had moaned playfully, much to Reed's annoyance and everyone else's amusement. Uncle Ben in particular laughed quite heartily and seconded the motion, only to be shot down by the Richards adults.

"_Ben, you're gonna show up to the lab on Monday, you're gonna let me stick that needle in your arm and you're gonna do it for science,"_ Reed commanded with a slight smirk on his face and a manic glint in his eye.

Franklin smiled and shook his head in amusement at the memory, but he still felt a small twinge of sadness. His parents, his uncles, nearly all of their allies had grown old. Where had the time gone? What happened to the days when Captain America would put his body at risk to protect the people of Earth? What happened to the days when Clint Barton, the original Hawkeye, could hit a bull's eye on a target placed two football fields away?

Where had those days gone? Life seemed so much simpler then, when his only worries were trying to get his homework done quick enough for him to go outside and play with a much younger Harry and Valeria. For him, turning back the clock would be all too easy, but he just couldn't do it. As much as he wanted to put it off, as much as he wished that he'd wake up in the morning to find that it had all been a dream, Franklin had to accept the fact that it was time for him to step up.

It was time for a new initiative. The world still needed protection from its enemies; the Avengers would always be needed, they just needed an update.

He was brought out of his reverie by his oh so loving little sister snapping her fingers in front of his eyes. "You home, Frankie? Or did you go out and leave the lights on again?" She drawled, raising an eyebrow and smirking at him, cerulean eyes dancing in amusement.

"You're hilarious, Val," He deadpanned. "You should quit your day job and become a comedian. You'll have a special on Comedy Central in no time at all."

Valeria tossed her long, flowing blond hair over her shoulder and scrunched up her face as if considering it, but grinned and shook her head. "Hmmm, I don't think so. I'd miss out on too many chances of messing with you."

Wonderful. "Oh, aren't I so lucky?" He muttered under his breath as he motioned her to follow him to the front gate. "Now I get the added bonus of dealing with you _and_ Harry busting my balls. I really didn't plan this out at all."

"Nope!" She chirped, smiling winningly at him. "You've got the power and mind of a god but still miss the simple things."

"Gee, thanks. Well, come on. Let's get this crap over with so we can get to the point of this little shindig."

"Can we even get in without Doctor Strange here?" she asked, looking at the nondescript building. "Harry said that he's got the property warded with permanent magic, the spell itself was woven into the ambient magic of the land itself!"

Her brother smirked in response as he reached out and touched the gate with his hand, pushing it open and stepping through. "Steven gave Harry partial control of the wards a couple years ago after Harry passed some kind of test, not sure what sort. In fact, Harry's added a few of his own tricks to the setup as well."

Val was thoroughly impressed. Oh, she knew the messy-haired, green-eyed sorcerer; she'd seen some of his magic firsthand, it was truly breathtaking. His aptitude for it was simply astounding. "Really? What sort of additions?"

"Let's just say that Harry can tell you literally every person to walk past this building, he can even tell you the time of day they were here. If someone tried to force entry there wouldn't be much left to identify. Even I can't warp through the wards without getting zapped; we tested it the day he put them up." Franklin noticed his sister's shocked expression and elaborated. "You'll never hear Harry say it, as he hates bragging, but his powers are amazing. Steven in particular believes that Harry will surpass him very soon, sooner than any of us realize. Harry's abilities with magic rival my own ability to warp reality. I'm not sure of the full extent as we can't fully test our powers without endangering this plane of existence, but it is comparable. Harry Potter the Sorcerer has my respect in terms of power and in how he takes responsibility for them. Harry Potter himself is my friend because he remains humble despite his accomplishments."

Suddenly, Franklin jumped and yelped in shock as a small bolt of lightning impacted the ground beside him, burning a mark into the pavement. As Franklin fought to regain his breath and Valeria struggled to control her laughter, the siblings noticed that the scorch marks formed actual words on the pavement:

"_I've told you how much I hate that name, asshole!_"

Franklin glared at the charred ground and growled. "Of course, he's still the same smart-assed little prick I've known since we were kids."

"And you, Franklin Richards, are the same whining brat, who loves to prank but hates being the victim," a familiar voice with a hint of an aristocratic tone called out from the front door, amusement evident in the young man's tone.

The owner of the voice was a young man with mid-length, messy black hair, square rimmed glasses and lightly tanned skin. He was dressed in neatly pressed, black dress pants, rather expensive looking black dress shoes and a white, button down dress shirt, the sleeves were rolled up to expose his forearms.

Upon closer inspection, Valeria noticed that Harry seemed to be breathing rather heavily; he'd been doing something that definitely took a toll on him. His typically messy hair was in an even worse state, completely disheveled and dampened with sweat.

Harry had been hard at work doing something. If Valeria had to venture a guess, he was utilizing some very intricate and very exhausting spells to achieve his goal. The question, of course, was to what aim was Harry working?

Franklin's glare vanished from his face as he surveyed his childhood friend, he whistled in surprise at Harry's disheveled appearance. "Jesus, Harry, what happened to you?"

The young sorcerer shot a half-hearted glare back at him. "You try putting a girl's soul back together after it's been pulled apart by Belasco and forged into blood stones. Not exactly a day at the beach."

Valeria blanched in confusion, she could just feel that she was missing out on some rather important information. Franklin, on the other hand, nodded appreciatively. "Ah, Illyana Rasputin?"

"Indeed," Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "The fact that her brother insists on running up to me and asking how his precious 'Snowflake' is faring every five seconds isn't helping my concentration either."

"Can you really blame him?" Franklin retorted, glancing at his Valeria out of the corner of his eye. "This _is_ his sister we're talking about."

"I'm fully aware of whom my patient is, Franklin, thank you. I suppose I'm just a bit testy due to the strain of the ritual and recent events. Pulling her out of Limbo and breaking Belasco's control over her soul was no easy task."

"Alright, stop! Rewind a bit!" Valeria snapped, fed up with being out of the loop. "Let's start at the beginning, for the benefit of those of us who don't go gallivanting off into other dimensions."

Harry shifted his gaze over to the blond girl before him and blinked in surprise, as if he couldn't believe who he was looking at. "Val?" he asked uncertainly.

She rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully. "Yes, four eyes, it's me. I haven't _suddenly_ gained my mom's powers. Remember? You always copied my physics homework?"

"As I recall, I only did that once," he replied, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Not that you have much room to talk, you copied my European History homework."

Valeria's cheeks colored at the shot at her own intellectual shortcomings. "True, but at least I don't forget my childhood friends!"

"I haven't forgotten you at all!" Harry replied indignantly. "It's just been some time and you've done something different with your hair. It used to always be in a ponytail, you rarely wore it down."

Valeria resisted the urge to smirk in triumph, he'd noticed. In general, guys _rarely_ paid much attention to a girl's hair unless they were either in a relationship or were considering one. If Harry was paying attention to her appearance, it could mean that he was paying attention to her _as a woman_, not just as a friend.

However, another traitorous thought brought her brief moment of triumph to a screeching halt: what if he was just very observant? Thinking back, Harry had always been able to spot things that were out of place, whether it was a prank setup that Franklin hadn't put back _exactly _the way it was previously or if it was a typing error on a test, Harry was always the one to find it. It was something he'd picked up from alchemy, the more scientific aspect of magic: observe, report, and analyze.

So, which was it? Was he paying attention to her the way she wanted? Or was this yet another example of Harry being… well, Harry being Harry? Damn it all, the more she thought about it, the more frustrated it made her.

This was absolutely infuriating! At four years old, she could formulate a plan to topple the Kree Empire, but now, at sixteen years old, she couldn't get a clear read on one of her oldest friends? Only Harry could be this frustrating without even meaning to!

The fact that her damnable brother was smirking at her only served to add to her irritation. Oh, he knew somehow. She didn't know _how_ he figured it out (if he read her mind, she'd kill him and atomize the body), but he knew what she was trying to do. He'd been teasing her about it for _far_ too long now.

Valeria decided to shift her thinking back to the original subject: Illyana Rasputin. She knew some of the details from Hisako, how Belasco had taken pieces of Illyana's soul to forge the bloodstones in order to call the elder gods to his realm, granting him power unrivaled by all of the respective Lords of their realms _combined_. In the process, Illyana's soul, her humanity, had been broken. She became a demon, bound to serve Belasco and reside in Limbo until he chose to send her elsewhere. "So, Illyana?" She prodded.

If Harry was putting her soul back together, if he had managed to do the unthinkable and wrest possession of her soul from Belasco, he was far more powerful than she imagined. Far more powerful than he was the last time she'd seen him. But still, the X-Men had difficulty with Belasco; they'd been struggling for years to bring Illyana back.

How in the world had Harry managed it? Breaking her connection to Limbo alone would require power of inconceivable magnitude; it would require power comparable to… Franklin.

"_Harry's abilities with magic rival my own ability to warp reality."_ Hadn't she just heard it from her brother? If Franklin considered Harry to be his peer in terms of raw power, then it was conceivable that he could have pulled Illyana out of Limbo on his own.

Her skepticism wasn't without reasoning; she'd seen Harry perform basic magic over the years, whether it was for some prank he was pulling or while she watched him go through some practice exercises, but she'd never seen him utilize the full magnitude of his abilities firsthand. The main reason for this was, well, that she didn't have powers of her own; other than her super genius intellect, she was a normal human being. Compared to the two boys, she was as fragile as glass.

Harry would never put one of his friends at risk to show off his own power, he and Franklin were similar in that regard, which probably explained why the two of them were able to get along so well for all these years. The two of them wielded phenomenal power, but somewhere, deep down, they wished they could just be normal; that they could just be Harry and Franklin, two trouble-making boys, instead of the Sorcerer and the Omega mutant.

"Ah, yes, Miss Rasputin," Harry mumbled. "I believe you are aware of how she was bound to serve Belasco, yes?" At her nod, he continued. "To make a long story short, her brother asked for my assistance in pulling her out of Limbo and breaking Belasco's control over his soul. I was, at long last, able to succeed a few days ago."

So, he had managed it. "And the matter of her soul?" she inquired. "Didn't Belasco remove pieces of her soul to forge the bloodstones?"

"Yes, he did. With that in mind, I should mention that the process of repairing one's soul after it has been fragmented and forged into bloodstones is inconceivably more difficult than pulling it apart and making the stones. I've been at it non-stop for the last four days, I'm currently working to implant the final stone into her body and remerge it with her soul."

"So, is this a bad time?" Franklin asked, a look of genuine concern on his face. He knew better than to interrupt a Sorcerer in the middle of a ritual, especially one of such importance. It required absolute concentration and mental discipline; the slightest distraction could ruin everything. The slightest distraction could destroy both the subject _and_ the Sorcerer performing the ritual.

Harry shook his head and turned to walk inside, motioning for them to follow. "No, you managed to catch me in between the fourth and fifth implanting. Due to the nature of the ritual and the strain it's putting on both Illyana's soul and my magic, I have to wait an hour or so in between each implantation."

"You sure that's not just a fancy way for you to say 'I'm taking five'?"

"Remind me, why did I agree to meet with you today, Franklin? It certainly wasn't for your _charming_ personality." Valeria barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the bantering duo. This was all business as usual for them.

She briefly turned her attention to the main hallway of the Sanctum Sanctorum, taking a moment to familiarize herself with her surroundings. There was some truth to the common belief that Doctor Strange was "obsessed with the occult", his décor certainly showed influence in surrealism and gothic style. Hell, according to Harry, Steven had it built at this specific location because he felt the magic from centuries of rituals and sacrifices being performed at this very location. The land itself felt alive to those with magical awareness.

Even Valeria herself felt it, that small needling sense that there was something supernatural was not lost on her. Years of encounters with Doctor Doom left a rather big impression on her, and hadn't Harry mentioned something about exposure to magic increasing the possibility of one's ability to sense it years ago?

"I do apologize for the inconvenience, but I'm going to have to ask that we postpone our meeting while I implant the final bloodstone into Miss Rasputin's soul," Harry called over his shoulder as he and Franklin began to climb the stairs, Valeria hastened to catch up to the pair, unwilling to be left alone in the rather _uniquely_ decorated house.

"Not a problem," Franklin assured him, waving off the apology. "This is an issue that needs your immediate attention. Our discussion can wait until you're finished."

Valeria, however, needed to satisfy her curiosity. She wanted more information about what sort of magic Harry was messing with. "How long exactly does this 'implantation' take?"

"The duration depends on the strain," Harry replied without hesitation. "I have to convert the stones from a physical to spiritual state and do so without losing more than the bare minimum of the energy in the process. Then, while it's pretty much pure energy I need to put it into her without it getting caught up in the chaos inside the vessel, her that is. And that means I need to recreate the bloodstones while putting it in just to avoid contamination, or, in worst case, trigger some failsafe that could suck it straight back into Limbo."

Well, that was certainly more complicated than it originally sounded. Then again, she should've realized that repairing a soul wouldn't be as simple as just sticking it back together; sometimes she forgot that despite how easy magic could make things _seem_ the processes could be just as complicated as her own work in technology.

The same logic could be applied to Franklin's powers as well. While her brother had learned to wield his powers almost instinctually, it took him years of practice, years of sitting down and thinking out _every_ step it took for him to rip through the fabric of space and time to create a wormhole or teleport himself to another location.

"So, slightly more complicated than fixing the clock on the DVR," Franklin quipped.

Harry and Valeria shared a look of annoyance. "He's your friend," she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

"He's your brother," he shot back.

"I didn't have a choice."

"Fair enough."

Franklin huffed petulantly, crossing his arms in mock anger. "Can't believe my own sister and best friend would say such horrible things about me!"

"Neither of us can believe how ridiculous you're being!" Valeria retorted.

"What? I was just making an observation!"

Harry saw the opportunity to get one over on his longtime friend; he didn't even bother trying to resist the urge. "I could've gotten a better comparison from a trained monkey. Actually, that's right around your level, isn't it?"

"Jackass!"

"Imbecile."

"Alright, knock it off, you two!" The girl genius scolded, trying to cut off the banter before they got carried away. They could go on for _hours_ if she let them get a full head of steam.

Franklin shook his head in despair. "Oh, Val, you're messing with our mojo! The banter always comes before the work!"

"It's like she doesn't even know us," Harry added, smirking in spite of Valeria's patented death glare. After being subjected to for so long, he knew when it was safe to poke the bear, so to speak. If Valeria were really mad, she wouldn't settle for a simple glare. Oh, no. If she were mad, he'd be a victim of one of her more inventive gadgets.

Last time, she sent him to the negative zone with her newly improved wormhole generator. That was one adventure he _definitely_ didn't want to repeat, thank you very much!

As they reached the top of the stairs and made their way down the hall, Franklin couldn't help but notice that something, or some_one_, was noticeably absent. Piotr Rasputin was nowhere to be seen. "Uh, Harry… didn't you say Piotr was here too?"

"He is but he isn't," Harry answered cryptically, his smirk growing into a full-blown grin.

"What's that supposed to mean? You said that he was annoying you every time…" Franklin trailed off as the answer struck him like a bolt of lightning. "You did it again, didn't you?" He asked, amusement evident in his voice.

The messy-haired sorcerer feigned innocence, looking anywhere but at his grinning friend. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You can't lie worth a damn, Harry! You might as well just come out and tell us, did you send him to another dimension or hit him with a sleeping spell?" Suddenly, Franklin grinned and whispered something in Harry's ear. Valeria could lip read but had missed Harry shaking his head and mouthing, "The kraken took offence the last time I dumped someone in there."

"What did you do to him?" Valeria demanded, scolding them like they were a pair of kindergartners. She almost stomped her foot impatiently as well. Both of the teenage men started laughing but Harry surrendered to the imperious woman.

"I just threw him in a genie jar," Harry promised, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "I emptied the bad natured jinn out of it months ago and keep it for carrying people to the proper authorities. He's comfortable in there, I've seen it all velvet cushions and good booze. He'll be out of my hair anyway."

"And just what do you think is going to happen when you let him out?" She snapped.

"Well, I was sort of hoping that he'd be too distracted by the fact that his sister was whole again to start hitting me."

Franklin snorted. "Let me know how that works out for you."

"Your confidence in me is so uplifting."

"I have all the confidence in the world when it comes to your magical abilities, your plans, on the other hand, not so much." As much as Harry would've loved to argue, he had to admit this wasn't exactly his most well thought out plan. Personally, he blamed his own exhaustion; this particular ritual took a lot out of him. Rituals of this nature were typically _very_ draining on the caster.

Harry pushed open large, wooden door and led them into a dimly lit room. A bald, Oriental man, dressed in a traditional silk top with matching pants and black Shaolin shoes, met them. This man was none other than Doctor Strange's personal assistant, Wong, loyal servant and retainer of this house who'd often supervised the trio playing when their parents were unavailable saving the world.

"Any fluctuations or complications I should know about?" Harry asked absently as he strode towards a black curtain.

"The curtain seems to have prevented anything from passing through here or there, master Harry," the man replied, bowing slightly at the waist.

"Good. Nice to know that I didn't waste a month looking for something that didn't work," Harry muttered, waving his hand in a strange pattern. Valeria had never seen magic performed at such a level, each of his fingers fired off an individual ribbon like strand of magic, showing a talent for magical dexterity surpassing that of even Doctor Doom himself. "To be fair, I wouldn't have been able to find it if not for Satana. Sure hope her favor isn't too much to deal with this time around."

"Still keeping in contact with your old partner?" Franklin teased; Valeria didn't share his amusement. Satana was a rather touchy subject for all parties involved.

"More like I don't want to owe her everything _including_ my soul," Harry grumbled. "Kidding aside, I should probably get on with it. Wong, you should probably get a blanket for our patient, I have a feeling she won't exactly appreciate her state of dress, or lack thereof."

"Quite right, master Harry," He replied, turning to face the Richards siblings and bowing to them. "Master Richards, miss Richards."

Harry pulled back the curtain and Valeria couldn't hide her gasp at the ritualistic scene in front of her. The blonde girl was eerily similar to her in looks. Small, lithe and with shining blonde hair the naked girl hanging from an invisible cross was cut open in perfect circular holes at her wrists, heart, groin and forehead. A bloody bloodstone was still in its container floating just above her breast above her heart but pulsing, writhing and shaking its prison like it was trying to escape. At her feet, a pentagram burned with flames glorious enough for the realms of heaven; candles mounted on white candlesticks at each point were linked by a stream of fire in the same beautiful shades.

Valeria couldn't look away from the fire. It seemed alluring, as if it were calling out to her, inviting her in. She began to take a step forward, reaching out to touch it, but stopped when she felt a hand grasp her wrist. Franklin pulled her back, shaking his head. "It might look beautiful, but the fire came from something dark. Harry doesn't use it unless it's absolutely necessary."

It was like being doused with a bucket of ice water. She'd been hypnotized, controlled by the fires. Oh, Valeria knew Harry wouldn't deliberately do something like that if he were in full control. But that was just the thing, he wasn't. This was something even he didn't have under wraps, not a very comforting thought. It made her wonder whether or not Harry was playing with something even he couldn't master.

She turned her attention back to the young unconscious girl before her, and couldn't help but notice the similarities she shared. They both had similar blond hair, Illyana was about her size, but had slightly smaller bosoms, and even had the same serene expression on her face. But there was something else, something deeper.

Illyana's cheeks were colored lightly; every now and then her breathing would come in short gasps, as though she was experiencing a powerful feeling of ecstasy. Could she feel her soul flowing back into her? Could she feel herself becoming whole, becoming human again?

As Harry approached the girl's suspended body, the candle flames shot up, roaring with vigor. They began to encircle him, slowly crawling up his pant legs, as if trying to get closer to him; as if the fire were trying to become one with him. As the flames reached knee height, they were suddenly stopped and seemed to jump off of him before dying out completely. To Valeria's immense relief, there was no sign of damage, no burn marks on his skin or even the slightest sign of scorching on his clothing. Harry glanced down at them sharply, as if he were giving them a stern warning _not_ to do that again.

Had Harry just rejected the fire? Or was he rejecting _something within_ the flames?

Either way, the flames flickered down once again, reverting back to their normal state. With a nod, Harry turned his attention back towards his patient and reached out toward the bloodstone container. The container began to shake violently as the sorcerer's magic went to work at tearing the final bloodstone from its housing.

At last, it came free. The tiny, red gem floated toward Harry's hand, stopping mere inches away from his palm. Once again, the flames roared to life, this time, however, they did not make any move towards the young sorcerer; this time, they began to encircle the stone itself. The blood red gem glowed with a blinding light as the flames danced and licked at it; something within the stone was reacting to the fire.

With his left hand, Harry motioned for the flames to lower themselves, coaxing them back down into but a tiny flicker on the wick. The gem, however, was still burning. Though it made absolutely no sense to her, Valeria was certain that she was watching a bloody gem _burning_ in mid air.

Harry began to chant in a low tone, the language itself was foreign, most definitely unfamiliar to Valeria. She leaned forward, curious to see if listening a bit more carefully would give her a clue as to the origins of the language.

Within seconds, a tidal wave of pain came crashing down on her. Valeria cried out and fell to her knees, clamping her hands over her ears in an attempt to block out the noise, but to no avail! The pain wouldn't stop! Even the muffled sound sent shockwaves of pain through her!

Out of the corner of her eye, she could barely make out the blurry shape of her brother falling to his knees as well; even he was being affected by the magic carried in the spell. Franklin hastily threw a barrier, distorting the sound waves so they would pass around he and Valeria like water flowing around a rock in a river. He crawled to her side, still reeling from the pain that had coursed through his body, and held her comfortingly.

"I'm sorry," He whispered, giving himself a mental kick for being so unbelievably stupid. "I'd forgotten that he was using magic older than mankind."

Valeria gasped for breath, absentmindedly nodding to him and resting her head on his shoulder. As much as she loved being independent, it was still nice to know that Franklin was there for her. He would always stand between her and the destructive forces of the cosmos.

This power Harry wielded was terrifying, but impressive. If there was one thing she'd learned from various encounters with Doctor Doom or her many play dates with Harry, it was that, when it came to magic, age meant power. For this magic to bring Franklin Richards to his knees, it was more powerful than damn near anything Doom had used previously. If there was anything that Valeria valued almost as much as intellect, it was power.

She applied to work at Stark Enterprises because it was at the forefront of technological advancement in the last two decades, not including her father's research of course. Since her childhood days, she watched with both awe and horror as Doctor Doom combined science with magic in a mad attempt to destroy her father and prove his superiority, only to be matched by his most hated nemesis at every turn.

Valeria knew power when she saw it. _This_ was a completely new level.

"However," Franklin began again, drawing her attention once more. "Even Harry must pay a price for using it."

Before Valeria could ask, before she could even _think_ to ask what price he was talking about, a small, seemingly insignificant cut opened up across Harry's cheek. It was nothing really; just, a rivet of blood dribbled from the wound and ran down his face. To her increasing horror, Harry's suffering had only just begun. Cuts were beginning to open up on his forearms, his hands; a horrifying gash suddenly appeared on the back of his head! Every inch of his being seemed stained with his lifeblood; the young sorcerer began to falter, weakened by blood loss and unimaginable pain.

The bloodstone sunk into Illyana's chest with relative ease, searing through her skin and disappearing from sight. Fighting through the pain, Harry continued chanting and waving his hand, sewed the cavity shut with his magic. He let his hands drop to his side, gasping for breath and collapsing to his knees. The ritual had taken its toll on the young sorcerer.

Suddenly, the flames leapt up again, encircling and snaking up his body and, to Valeria's growing horror, consuming the blood and cauterizing Harry's wounds. Despite being covered in flames, Harry made no sound of panic, nor did he attempt to smother them by rolling or beating at his clothing. Though he seemed irritated by its presence, he grudgingly allowed the flames to lick his wounds shut and clean the blood from his body.

Valeria had been mistaken; the fire wasn't consuming Harry, it was _healing _him! The fire had leapt to its master's aid and acted as a protector, as if it were the boy's guardian angel. But could she even call it a guardian angel after seeing the expression on Harry's face? He seemed annoyed, barely willing to accept the fact that he needed assistance from the flames. Could the fire be something more sinister? Could it be something demonic?

What power had he gained? Who had been its suspiciously undisclosed owner before him?

"It's done," Harry called tiredly, not even attempting to rise to his feet. "You can drop your barrier."

Franklin sighed in relief and let the barrier fall. "That was… interesting."

Valeria shot a glare at him and shoved his arm off of her. "Interesting?! You call _that_ interesting?" She shrieked, gesturing wildly at the remnants of the ritual scene. "Being hurt just by hearing magic words, Harry getting sliced open, a flaming gem burning into a girl's body, and _Harry catching on fire_ is interesting? Are you insane?!"

Her brother matched her glare with a stern look. "I wouldn't have let anything happen to either of you," he growled. "I made a mistake with the barrier and I fixed it; if Harry had been in danger, I would have stepped in."

"How can you say he wasn't in danger? Am I the only one that saw the blood? The fire? How is that not immediate danger?"

"Because the fire is mine," the exhausted sorcerer interjected weakly. "As much as I hate it, the fire is at my disposal. It won't hurt me, it _can't_ hurt me."

"What does that even mean?" She demanded.

Franklin put a hand on her shoulder, leaning forward to whisper into her ear. "Val, not the time or the place."

"It's fine, Frank," Harry said, gingerly shifting himself to a more comfortable seated position. "She deserves to know some of the story. In all fairness, I should've already told her."

"Tell me what?" Valeria asked, in the same demanding tone. "What have you two been keeping from me?"

"We didn't do it intentionally," Harry assured her. "You were busy with work and I didn't want to worry you. Frank only knew about it because he had to help put me back together after the fact. If it wasn't for him, I'd still be trapped in another realm." The girl genius opened her mouth to demand more information, but Harry pressed on. "I can't tell you everything, otherwise I run the risk of very powerful forces targeting you."

She scoffed in response. "Are you forgetting who you're talking to? This isn't my first gig, you know!"

Harry's gaze hardened, any sign of his typical playfulness vanished completely. "Considering that even Doctor Strange could never once and for all defeat this force, I'm going to stand by my decision. If I could've helped it, neither of you ever would've known about this at all. So drop it!"

The atmosphere was noticeably tense; while Harry did feel somewhat guilty that he was keeping one of his closest and oldest friends in the dark, he truly had no choice. There was an old saying that Harry took to heart: 'don't brag to those who can't defend themselves'. For many years, he didn't fully understand the meaning. Why shouldn't he brag to those who weren't as powerful as he? Shouldn't it be 'don't brag to someone more powerful'?

Still, he took the advice to heart and stayed humble; politely accepting compliments only when he truly earned them, all the while pondering the meaning of that phrase. It wasn't until he first encountered one of his mentor's enemies that he finally understood. Bragging to someone and being hurt by that person wasn't the issue… bragging to a friend that couldn't defend themselves from one of _his_ enemies was.

If the price for his friends' safety was their anger, so be it. Better to argue with living friends than to mourn the ones he'd lost because of his own arrogance.

A low sound, almost like a light moan, drew the trio's attention. The unconscious girl was beginning to stir, reaching up with a hand to rub the sleep from her eyes as if she'd just woken up from a long nap. Harry and Franklin quickly turned their gaze to the ceiling, trying to look _anywhere_ but at the naked girl in front of them.

Harry was already going to be on Piotr's shit list for locking him in a genie's lamp, he had _no_ intention of digging himself into an even deeper hole by staring at his sister! Where the hell was Wong with that damn blanket anyways?

As if some higher power were answering his prayers, his mentor's trusted servant stepped through the door carrying with him a simple, blue sheet. Well, it wasn't quite what he asked for, but it would at least serve to give the poor girl something to cover herself with. Even if she was cute (something he wouldn't say in front of Piotr), he was most certainly _not_ a pervert.

Wong barely blinked at the sight of the young girl, he merely stepped forward and offered her the sheet, bowing his head slightly to show respect. "Miss Rasputin," He greeted in a low tone.

Illyana squeaked in shock as she finally realized her state of dress, crossing her arms over her chest. Wong cleared his throat and gestured to the sheet in his hand. "Miss Rasputin, if you would?"

Needing no further explanation, Illyana quickly accepted his offering and covered herself, blushing in embarrassment as she noticed that there were still more people in the room; more people to see her. Once she was satisfied that she had covered all the important bits, she turned her gaze to the other occupants. She was vaguely familiar with them, the two blonds were the children of Reed and Susan Richards; she recognized them from news bulletins she'd seen during her time with the X-Men. Valeria was the child prodigy and Franklin was the most powerful mutant on the planet, if she remembered correctly.

The third occupant, however, was new to her. She racked her brain, trying to remember whether or not she'd ever encountered a boy with messy black hair and such vibrant, green eyes, but to no avail. Illyana had no memory of him whatsoever, yet he felt so familiar, as if there were something linking the two together.

The longer she looked at him, the more she felt that inexplicable pull towards him, the mere sight of him brought on warm feelings she hadn't experienced since losing her soul to Belasco. Illyana hadn't felt this way about a boy since she was last in grade school back in Russia. Then, it had just been a crush on a cute boy, now it was as if every fiber of her being was demanding that she go to him.

Every fiber of Illyana's being wanted to get closer to the raging inferno residing deep within this boy's magic.

The boy turned to address the oriental man who had presented her with the blanket, Illyana fought to suppress a blush as his voice reached her ears for the first time. "Mister Wong," he began. "If you would kindly retrieve our guest and inform him that the ritual is complete, I'd be very grateful. Also, do see if you can locate some attire a bit more appropriate for Miss Rasputin."

_Bozhe moi, that voice!_ If it were possible, she felt that warmth, that pull intensifying at the mere sound of his voice. She barely even noticed the oriental man bow at the waist and make his exit to search for whoever their other guest was; she was too focused on the speaker. Right now, her world revolved around this new, green-eyed, raven-haired boy.

This new, _very attractive_, green-eyed, raven-haired boy, she amended, absentmindedly licking her lips and debating on how she should go from here. Did she remain seated, wrapped only in a sheet, and simply stare at him? Or should she go to him, should she follow this pull?

Okay, so the first option was definitely out, there was no way that she _wasn't_ going to him. But the longer she stared at him, the more the pull intensified, now she just had to go to him; she _had_ to touch him, she needed him to hold her in his arms! She needed to feel his warm flesh against hers! For the life of her, she couldn't figure out why, but that wasn't important at the moment! All that mattered was the boy sitting barely a yard away from her.

There wasn't much that could surprise Harry, being that he was the apprentice to the Sorcerer Supreme. He'd battled demons, literally been in the presence of gods and kings, he'd even watched his best friend create a miniature galaxy in the palm of his hands, simply because Franklin was bored and had nothing better to do. In his travels, he'd seen many things; some that would give men horrible nightmares for the rest of their lives. He liked to think that he could handle just about anything.

Anything except for Piotr Rasputin's admittedly adorable, _naked_ _little sister_ to throw herself at him and start babbling in rapid Russian, while wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body against him. Harry comically flailed his arms, trying to maintain his balance, but to no avail; the force of the small, blond teen slamming into him caused him to fall flat on his back, pinned beneath the beaming girl. He opened his mouth to protest, to plead with her to kindly get off of him and fix that damn sheet so that he couldn't see her (ahem) assets, but she cut him off in a way that was most certainly _not_ what he expected.

His mind literally went blank the instant he felt something soft press against his lips, and her eyes seemed to fill his vision. For a few seconds, he was in shock, in disbelief that this was actually happening, that it wasn't a figment of his imagination or some hallucination brought on by exhaustion. No, it was real all right; it was as real as anything could get.

Illyana was kissing him. Illyana Rasputin was on top of him, completely _nude_, and kissing him. He tried to lift his arms up to push her off, but the ritual had taken its toll on him; he barely managed to lift them off the ground, grunting with the strain as his muscles protested his every movement. Before he could even put his hands on her shoulders, the blonde girl quickly shifted her arms, repositioning them so that her elbows were pinning his arms to the ground.

Harry mentally cursed himself; how the bloody hell could he possibly forget that using the flames might have this side effect on Illyana? Dark arts always had a more sinister nature; this one in particular had a tendency to be very alluring to members of the opposite sex. This line of thought was brought to a rather abrupt halt when Harry felt something trailing along his bottom lip; his eyes widened in fear, his struggles became more frantic, despite the fact that his muscles felt like they might fall apart! Oh, _hell no_!

He wasn't one to turn down a pretty girl, but he was _not_ going to make out with an enthralled girl, much less do it in front of his two oldest friends!

Speaking of which, why the hell weren't they putting a stop to this? Harry turned – as much as he could, considering his predicament – to face Franklin and began shouting for his friend to pull Illyana off of him, but his shouts were muffled for obvious reasons. To Harry's horror, his attempt to jolt his friend into action gave Illyana the chance to slip her tongue into his mouth; which she took full advantage of with vigor!

Franklin was torn between surprise, amusement, and the very slightest hint of jealousy. He shook off the jealousy, recalling that he'd been in a similar situation a while back and Harry had been the poor sod playing wingman at that time. Franklin forced himself to look away as he noticed the sheet beginning to slip off of the Russian girl, giving him a rather generous view of her cleavage. If this were any other time, he would have appreciated the view – very much, in fact – but now was not the time. Now, he had to decide whether to let this play out, or help his friend.

Oh, sure, he knew that the apprentice sorcerer wanted his help; he had to turn off his passive telepathy to escape the frantic mental shouts of "Stop grinning like a moron and get her off of me, you blonde jackass!"

You'd think after nearly seventeen years, Harry would know better. The only reason Franklin wasn't egging the situation on – as any best friend would do – was that, out of the corner of his eye, he could see that his sister was clearly on the verge of a nuclear meltdown.

So, obviously, this was the perfect time for him to stir the pot and add a bit more emotion to the scene playing out in front of him. "And this is why I'm glad my powers have nothing to do with magic," he drawled with a smirk in his friend's direction.

Valeria turned her heated glare on him, gritting her teeth in anger at both the scene before her and the fact that her brother was going out of his way to agitate her, knowing full well how she felt. "Franklin," she hissed dangerously, her tone so venomous that a shiver ran down her brother's spine. "One more word and I'll atomize you."

Well, that escalated quicker than he expected. Franklin's grin slipped slightly as he began to shuffle himself so that he would be out of his sister's reach should she decide to take her current anger out on him. Omega mutant or not, his darling, little sister could be quite frightening when she put her mind to it. And considering that she had the tech to back up her threats, it _really_ wasn't in his best interest to be in the line of fire.

Judging by the look on her face, Franklin was going to have to step in and pry Illyana off of his captive friend, even if that meant losing his main source of amusement. If he let Valeria handle it, he had a hunch that it wouldn't end well. As brilliant as his sister was, she didn't particularly like when people touched something that belonged to her – even if that something was actually a _someone_.

Franklin wasn't sure who he should pity more: Illyana, should Val loose what little control over her temper she possessed, or Harry once she decided to end her shy girl act and make her move.

With that question in mind, he made as if to stand and go to his friend's aid, when he heard the telltale sound of a door being pushed open behind him. Franklin closed his eyes in annoyance, silently begging any deity listening that it _not_ be who he thought it was. He quickly glanced over his shoulders, muttering a few choice words at the sight that greeted him.

If there was ever a time that Franklin wished that Wong had taken just a few seconds longer to complete his task, this would be it.

Piotr Rasputin, better known as Colossus, was a very powerful mutant, his particular "gift" made close quarters combat with him damn near suicidal; the fact that short range fighting was Franklin's weak point didn't exactly help matters either. Now, factor that in with the sight that the large, hulking Russian man was greeted with, and you'll understand why Franklin was cursing in every language he knew:

Piotr had been looking forward to being reunited with Illyana, his sister, his "precious snowflake", he had been praying for the day when she would be returned to him and be made whole once again. He had been looking forward to the day that he'd be able to see her smiling face and hold her in his arms.

Nowhere in this fantasy was she supposed to be straddling a certain raven-haired sorcerer and doing her very best to stick her tongue down his throat. Piotr felt his blood boil in his veins at the sight, his fingers began to clench as if he were already wringing the boy's neck for daring to touch her in such a manner. The fact that his sister just so happened to be _naked_ wasn't helping in the least bit.

"Oh, fuck me!" Franklin muttered under his breath as the muscle bound Russian's skin began to change; rough flesh became smooth, stainless organic steel.

Now, he wasn't just dealing with a pissed off, overprotective Piotr Rasputin, no, much worse. Now, he had to figure out a way to stop a pissed off, overprotective, _Colossus_ from ripping his best friend limb from limb. In a confined space like this, Franklin couldn't use the full brunt of his powers; they were far too destructive and took much too long to prepare. There was really only one thing he could do in this situation…

"POTTER!" Piotr roared, charging forward and pulling his sister off of the helpless sorcerer. Had he been thinking logically, Piotr might have been able to stop himself long enough to note that it was his sister on top of the younger boy; not that it would make him feel any better about the situation, but perhaps he wouldn't be so quick to assume that Harry had been taking advantage of her.

Unfortunately, Piotr had always been overprotective of his sister to a level that bordered on zealous. He rushed forward, fully intending to pull his sweet, innocent sister off of the sorcerer and punish the young man for his frivolous actions. He would get within three paces of his target before he found that he couldn't move; his entire body wasn't responding! No matter how hard he tried to force his way, no matter how much energy he put out, his limbs simply would not move!

"Sorry 'bout that Piotr," Franklin said, grinning sheepishly despite the large Russian's glare. "I hate to have to increase gravity on you like that, but I can't really have you beating him to a pulp."

"Release me, Richards!" The man demanded angrily; frantically trying to force his body to move.

Piotr's angry shouts were brought to a halt by the whirring sound of a dozen tiny rotors. He glanced out of the corner of his eye, and found himself face to face with a metallic hand, with a glowing circle in the middle. If he could move, he would've done a double take; he was familiar with this design! This looked to be a similar design to the repulsor rays mounted on Tony Stark's Iron Man suit!

But, on second glance, the armor was much different. Though it was just the hand, the metal appeared to be a more sleek design; made with the focus on efficient mobility in mind, instead of the clunky, thick armor Stark preferred. The most notable difference, however, was that it was definitely _not_ Tony Stark in full armor.

Valeria Richards' entire right arm was now covered in metallic blue and silver armor, the young girl herself matched Piotr's glare with one of her own. What in God's name was this? He knew full well that Valeria Richards was Stark's protégé, so to speak, but he had no idea that she was outfitted with his tech on this level! Even so, this armor itself was on a completely different level than Stark's; he was quite certain that she hadn't been wearing it before. There was no sign of a quick release suit under her business attire, no sign of a briefcase for her to punch in an access code to, and the Sanctum Sanctorum certainly wasn't outfitted with the technology to assemble an Iron Man suit for her to wear.

So where the hell did it come from?

Valeria was in no mood to answer whatever questions the immobile Russian before her might have, even if she usually loved to lord her intellect over others. Right now, she was trying to restrain the urge to just fire off a repulsor blast, if only to give him something to actually complain about.

"Lose the metal," she hissed. "_Now_!" Her tone left little doubt that she fully intended to fire on him if her orders weren't followed. A repulsor blast at this range would be nearly fatal to a normal human being; for Colossus, it might mean a minor concussion, depending on what power setting she chose.

Judging by the expression on her face, she wasn't in any mood for playing around; but that didn't change the fact that it was his bloody sister making out with that sorcerer! He couldn't just stand to the side because of a little girl with a fancy toy!

Piotr grit his teeth and threw all of his energy into forcing his limbs to move in spite of Franklin's gravity field; despite the situation, he had to admit that the elder Richards sibling did indeed have a rather impressive control over his powers. The boy had to in order to manipulate a fundamental force of nature with such dexterity. However, that did _not_ mean that he was going to give up. He shot his right arm out and deflected Valeria's so that her repulsor wasn't aimed at his head, and lunged forward, much to Franklin's shock and frustration.

"Damn it, Piotr!" Franklin snapped angrily, as he was forced to increase gravity around the Russian mutant _again_ in an attempt to restrain him. "Stop!"

While increasing gravity did indeed slow Piotr's advance, there was one rather important detail that Franklin didn't account for: the structural foundations of the building and their ability to support Colossus' weight. The Sanctum Sanctorum wasn't built with the sturdy material found in most modern buildings. Doctor Strange had specifically requested that it be made in a more traditional way; he asked that the structure be made entirely out of wood.

Now with that in mind, consider the fact that Colossus was in full metal form, and Franklin had just increased gravity on him twice; logically, old style, wooden structures can only support a certain weight limit. So, when Franklin increased gravity a second time…

**CRACK! CRASH!**

… He unwittingly caused Colossus to exceed the limit of structural support.

The sound of the large, metal man falling through the floor was enough to briefly jolt Illyana out of her enthralled state; she stared at the gaping hole in the floor, confused. She didn't recall seeing it when she all but leapt into the raven-haired sorcerer's arms, and, while she did vaguely hear shouting of some sort a moment ago, that didn't explain the sudden appearance of the hole.

Illyana shrugged her shoulders, willing to let this oddity go unknown a bit longer, just so she might have a bit more time to spend with the boy beneath her. Harry, however, had other ideas.

The young sorcerer snapped his fingers, and suddenly, the sheet sprang to life, wrapping itself around Illyana – who squeaked in surprise and protest – and yanked her backwards and off of the object of her desires. She tried to struggle loose, to rise up and make her way back to the boy, to no avail; somehow, the sheet was keeping her pinned to the floor, giving Harry enough time to catch his breath and rise up to lean on his elbows.

Harry wiped his mouth on his shirt sleeve, trying to ignore the lingering taste from the unexpected make out session, and pushed himself up into a seated position, giving Franklin a deadpan look as his friend shifted uncomfortably.

"Uh, oops?" He offered sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders and smiling nervously, a smile that went unreturned as Harry simply stared back at him, raising an eyebrow in silent demand for an explanation. "Ok, in my defense, I flunked physics the first time around! And shouldn't magical houses stop this from happening?"

"To a degree, but it's not invulnerable, you idiot!" Harry said, sighing in exasperation and bringing his hand up to massage the bridge of his nose in an attempt to fight the migraine that usually came about as a direct result of his friend. There was really only one thing he could bring himself to say. "You're paying for that."

**Chapter End**

**There it is. Review and let me know what you thought.**


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